


Ice Cream

by PurpleArmadillo



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series)
Genre: Bad Luck, Gen, Humor, Ice Cream, Oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-16 13:07:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2270859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleArmadillo/pseuds/PurpleArmadillo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Proton learned something that day: never, under any circumstances, should you bring your melting dessert into Archer's office.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ice Cream

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All rights belong to Nintendo, Game Freak, and the Pokemon Company.

“Do you _have_ to bring that in here?” Archer frowned across his office desk toward the doorway, where Proton had just entered with a strawberry ice cream cone from the cafeteria. “If you get even a single drop on any of my files, I swear I’ll sic my Houndoom on you.”

Proton rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Look, I’ll cup my hand underneath the cone, alright? Your carpet and papers will be safe and sound.” He stepped forward and took a seat opposite the interim-boss. “Anyway, you wanted to see me?”

“Yes,” nodded Archer, pointedly ignoring the younger Executive’s exaggerated slurping and licking noises. “I wanted to go over the Radio Tower blueprints with you one last time before Takeover.” He gestured to a series of diagrams spread across the polished surface of the desk.

“Haven’t we been over this about twenty times already? I’ve got it memorized by now: our points of entry, the position of our troops, the best escape routes…” The teal-haired Rocket let the sentence trail off as he set his attention on his dessert once more.

“Then we’ll go over it twenty one times. We only have one shot at this. We can’t afford to make any miscalculations –” Archer stopped abruptly, frowning in disapproval, “—could you not lean over like that?”

“The cone’s not even over the diagrams!”

“I don’t care; it could still drip and splatter.”

Proton simply stared at the bluenette. “And just when I thought you couldn’t get anymore paranoid,” he shook his head in mock-concern. “Vacations are good for you, you know. You stress yourself out.”

“Can we get on with this?” Archer tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. “We can discuss my stress issues and vacation plans later.”

“Hold on, I can’t see that bottom section of the second blueprint. I’ll just come around to your side –” Proton had barely taken a step when his comrade stopped him and waved a pack of tissues in his direction.

“After you wipe the side of the cone.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Proton flung his arms up in exasperation. Of course, he was still holding the ice cream, and the motion dislodged the top scoop. The edible projectile flew through the air over the precious diagrams, and landed with a loud wet splat on Archer’s white uniform.

\------------ 

Petrel glanced up in surprise as the door to his office burst open. In dashed an out of breath Proton, who immediately slammed the door and locked it behind him. He then proceeded to double over, panting.

“What’d you do this time?” Petrel couldn’t help but grin; then suddenly his eyes widened. “Uh, Pro, your hat’s on fire.”

His friend cursed loudly, whipped off his black hat, and used his glove to whack at the flames until they snuffed out. 

“So, if the fire’s any indication, I’m gonna go ahead and guess you ticked off Archer again?” the purple-haired Executive asked, now watching as Proton carefully inspected the damage before jamming the hat back onto his head.

Proton huffed. “Yeah, Mr. Paranoid freaked out when I brought my dessert into his office.” 

“…And?”

Proton straightened up, having caught his breath, and plopped down into a nearby chair. “…And I sorta dropped the whole thing right on his lap.” 

“Pie?”

“Nah, a whole scoop of strawberry ice cream. There’s a huge pink stain down the front of his uniform.” 

They sat together in silence for a moment. Then, Petrel burst out laughing.

“Wow, that was a delayed response,” the teal-haired Rocket raised his eyebrows. 

“I can picture the whole thing happening,” his friend explained between chuckles. “Though I’m sure it wasn’t particularly funny having an angry hellhound chasing you through the base.”

Proton grinned. “No, but it was so worth it. You should’ve been the look on Archer’s face. Next time he calls me in for a meeting right after lunch, I’m totally bringing chocolate ice cream.”


End file.
